


Shoot With a Clear Head

by ChrisAndCompany



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Friends to Lovers, Guilt, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Noctis, Hurt!noctis, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Stasis, gladio is a jerk im sorry, mention of insomnia, the condition not the place lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisAndCompany/pseuds/ChrisAndCompany
Summary: It was supposed to be a one-day thing, the four having plans to move on as soon as possible, but Gladio had the ever so adored idea of utilizing the surrounding area for training. Sure, sounds like a good idea, that is, if it had gone smoothly.-Prompto lets himself get distracted during training and who else is there to suffer than prince charmless.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 15
Kudos: 53





	1. If Things Would Just Go as Planned...

**Author's Note:**

> Okie dokie sooo THIS IS MY FIRST WORK IN THIS FANDOM
> 
> Characters may be a bit ooc, but I'm doing my best, gotta start somewhere.

It had been Ignis’ idea. To train Noct to be able to warp more precisely in order to avoid the bullets of the MT units that they’ve had to constantly face. There had been too many close calls involving the prince almost shot down as he exited a warp, the troops becoming more accustomed to the timing of his movements. The job of taking down those who’d do so had unofficially fallen to Prompto, since the aim of his pistols was unrivaled among the four. He has been slipping up more and more recently, waves of dizziness catching him off guard. This was probably his body’s way of punishing him for being unable to sleep as long as he should.

Noct had been warping around, practicing his speed and precision, as Prompto and Gladio approached. The more built man had given him one of the more offensive lectures he had to offer, reprimanding the other for the more frequent mistakes he had been making regarding how he was supposed to provide cover for the future king during battle. Prompto bites down any form of argument, knowing deep down that his friend was right. He doesn’t know why they haven’t already ditched him in some outpost somewhere. Needless to say, the whole thing made him a little more than upset. Nudging him forward, Gladio motions towards Noct, indicating that he was to train with him. With an annoyed click of his tongue, he storms off towards the prince, leaving a moderately confused team member behind him.

Noticing his presence, Noctis halts what he’s doing, cracking an ether over himself, recovering the magic he had spent warping around the field. The moment the raven-haired hunter noticed the look on his face though, he was frowning himself.

“Hey Prom, you alright?” The concern in the other’s voice almost brings Prompto to tears, the man surprised yet again by his kindness. Then again, Noctis has always been a bit too forgiving when it comes to those close to him. Clearing his throat, the marksman lightens his expression, resuming the normal cheerfulness he carries, or at least, trying to. To anyone else, he seems a bit in pain… or maybe constipated… yeah, that’s probably more accurate. Already worn down from his previous training, Noctis chalks it up to something the other must have eaten.

“Yeah, I’m good! Just the usual from the big guns over there.” Prompto gestures towards the built man that had started making his way back towards the haven. Snorting in amusement, clasps a hand onto his friend’s shoulder, shaking his head.

“Don’t take it so seriously, that’s just Gladio being, well, just being Gladio I think. Let’s just focus on training so he doesn’t make us do extra laps.” Noctis visibly shudders at the prospect of having to more than necessary, and the blonde almost laughs at him, a bit relieved he had passed as normal, though part of him screams for Noctis, or anyone for that matter, to see through him and his lies. Sinking a bit back into that fog, he takes his stance as the prince stretches his back with an audible pop.

“So Noct, what’s the plan here?” Glancing around the area, Prompto notes the multiple vantage points his friend might warp to. Noctis gives his signature shrug before rolling his eyes at the thought of planning things out. They decided on a game of whack-a-mole, opting to have Noctis repeatedly warp around as Prompto aims at where he should be emerging. The idea is to have Noct accustomed to planning multiple steps ahead to avoid being shot. The blonde already knows to give some delay so that he doesn’t actually hit him, plus, he has a clip of proxies, bullets that won’t do more harm than bruise. He’s to keep firing until given word to stop if prince charmless runs out of energy. Noctis nods, repeating the plan with a sort of tired determination.

“Alright, any objections?” Prompto shakes his head, thinking back to how Ignis and the prince communicate in battle.

“Nothing needing royal attention.” If people could roll their eyes a full 360, Prompto is sure Noctis would be doing so at this moment, but he settles for what he can do, along with a light punch to the blonde’s shoulder before moving to warp off.

“Good, then we’ll play it by ear.” A flash of blue, and Prompto is left looking at a ghostly mirage left behind, normally meant to distract enemies. Swiping a hand through the projection, he reaches for the gun resting in his holster before looking out over the field. 

“Easy as they come.” A shot fires and the two are now captured in a game of cat and mouse, his shots plowing through the blue puffs of smoke left by the streak of black whizzing around. It would be reasonable to assume that the sound of guns would drown out any internal turmoil, but Prompto is having no such luck. His ears ring as his focus on the field fades. His arms move on auto-pilot, fingers mechanically closing over the trigger with practiced ease as he's trapped in the back of his mind.


	2. The Accident the Voices Caused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mind can be a twisted place, and one must be careful when it manages to twist them too. Prompto never got the memo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to Neko_Positive for giving me the motivation to get this chapter out! I still have a long way to go, but I'm doing my best :3
> 
> Negative internal thoughts never lead to good things, in my experience, so here's a lovely example. Poor Prompto :(

The only sounds that fill the clearing are the sharp shots Prompto fires off, accompanied by the harsh breathing of those training. A light static fills the air as the crackle of magic raises the hair on his arms, the area covered in a faint haze of blue light. His eyes are trained on the man warping across the field, calculating his target site from the timing of the other’s movements, the actions almost mechanical. The blonde blinks as his arms seemingly gain a few extra pounds, dragging his aim down. Looking up, he notes that he hadn’t fired nearly soon enough, Noctis having already warped away before he even had a shot to evade.

-“ _Do you think that the enemy is going to wait for you to shoot them down, or are you trying to test Noct’s luck here?_ ”- The accusation stung, and Prompto spins around to snap at the larger man, only to be met with the sight of the trees behind him. The argument stuck in his throat, his eyes dart around, searching for the origin of that remark.

“Hey, is it lunch time already?” Prompto startles as the prince laughs behind him. Right. Training. Turning to face him, he scratches at his neck bashfully.

“Sorry, I thought I heard something back there...” At his words, Noctis tenses, summoning his Engine Blade to his side.

“Like a daemon? Or was it an airship?” Prompto can see the visible annoyance of having to deal with such enemies, and almost shakes his head at the speed he shifted gears. The other always seems like he’ personally offended by their presence. Waving his hands in front of him, he assures his friend that’s not the case.

“No, no nothing like that, for real.” Noctis gives him a skeptical look, craning his neck to glance behind the marksman. Content with what he sees, or the lack of such, he nods before dismissing the blade.

“Alright, well, daemons or none, we’ve gotta keep going.” The prince retreats back to his area before resuming his training, Prompto not far behind, the blonde quickly taking his aim at the blue bursts of light. As his body switches to auto pilot, once again, he’s left with his thoughts. He was sure Gladio had been right behind him, criticizing his every move, although he couldn’t rule out the possibility that it was stress talking. He’s heard Ignis talk about the importance of getting enough sleep, and he knew better than to test his limits, but it’s been almost 72 hours since he’s been physically able to fall asleep. His days have been filled with lapses in consciousness followed by confusion, something Prompto bets that Ignis has a term for. Shaking his head violently, he frowns as his mood plummets, having taken those spoken (were they?) words to heart.

“I’m sorry.” The apology falls softly under his breath, an automatic response to reprimand. His arm jerks as he fires another shot towards Noctis, the other slipping away just in time, although he’s sure it would’ve missed even if he hadn’t moved.

- _“Hey! Where are you even aiming? It’s like you forgot how to shoot or something._ ”- Prompto bites his lip as the voice lashes out again. It’s not like it’s wrong, but that doesn’t make it any easier to take.

“Sorry.” His gaze lowers, his aim faltering, and he can hear the pop of a blank hitting against a boulder that sits a few feet to the left of his intended target.

-“ _Are you quite alright? You seemed to be distracted by something. Or are you perhaps just inadequate?_ ”- His eyes widen in disbelief. Ignis would never… would he? The possibility of being on Ignis’ bad side put an immense pressure on Prompto’s chest. He would never say something so insensitive. As an unofficial team mom, Iggy knows how to approach a situation without setting off the people involved. That given, he would never stoop so low as to purposefully put him down like that. As sound as this justification is, Prompto can’t help but obsess over the ‘what if’s’, and is dragged further into his head.

“Sorry…” His voice comes out as barely a whisper, and his knuckles flush white with the pressure he squeezes the weapon with. Ahead of him, Noctis’ pace starts to slow, but it’s not like the blonde is in the right mindset to notice.

-“ _Try harder._ ”- As if a bomb went off next to him, a harsh ringing fills his ears, volume raising to a point where he can’t even hear the firing of his own gun.

“I’ll try harder.” Grinding his teeth, Prompto quickly pulls a second weapon from the holster, taking renewed aim at the shapes whizzing by.

“Prompto!” His friend calls to him, and the blonde normally would’ve stopped dead in his tracks to respond, but he wasn’t completely present. Noctis warps away when he’s met with more bullets as an answer.

- ** _“Try harder._** ”- Twisting around, he fires a capsule into the air, flooding their surroundings with a blinding light. Staggering away from the offending burst, Noctis calls for his friend once more, barely evading the bullets shot in response. Prompto feels a sudden heat in his lungs, fury leaking into his features.

“Why should I have to?” The thought of what he’s being asked to do makes his tremble with disbelief. Why should he be the one under constant scrutiny? After all he does for the group, after all the sleep he misses when he opts to improve his skills under the gaze of the moon, why is he the one under fire? After he’s tried so hard to keep his friends in good spirits, even after he had lost his home too, why does HE have to be the one to surrender his own happiness for the sake of theirs? He barely registers a shout of worry as his internal monologue rants on. He’s tired, so tired, and people just want more out of him. They siphon out his worth and then ask him what more he can offer. Maybe they don’t even care. Maybe they brought him along to see how long he would last. Hell, maybe they even have bets going.

“Snap out of it Prompto!” Noctis pleads with him, feeling the oncoming fatigue of overusing magic. He rolls out of the way as the next shot breaks off a portion of the tree trunk next to him. Prompto isn’t using blanks anymore, although in his condition, Noctis doubts the other is even aware of it. His vision darkens as he’s forced to continue warping away from Prompto’s aim.

“Am I not good enough?” The blonde snaps at what seems like thin air, hard gaze trained on the empty space next to him. Noctis almost gasps at the abnormal expression that occupies his friend’s face, racking his brain for a solution, a process that is cut short by the pain that shoots through his frame upon exiting the next warp. His brain seems to fog over as an impossible weariness floods through him. Blinking the film away, he looks to Prompto in horror. The blonde seems to argue with the grass he stands on before snapping his gaze up. As his fingers close on the trigger, they speak in unison, both voices small and clouded with pain.

“Help.”

“Stasis.” A shot rings out and Prompto can faintly hear a pair of rushed steps approach before the world seems to tilt dramatically. A pair of arms are suddenly holding him down, his body now pressed against the damp grass. His mind stalls, the image of his friend covered in red sitting in the back of his mind, and a broken scream rips through his throat before all he sees is black.


	3. What We Failed to See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with some more for you lovely people XD  
> So yikes. Prompto. I almost feel bad for putting him through this... almost.  
> This chapter came slow to me, so thanks for sticking around :3

“Noct!” If it weren’t for the pounding headache, accompanied by the pressure in his chest, Noctis would 100% believe he was dead, his sight decreasing to narrow tunnel vision. He can vaguely hear voices rushing closer, and a warmth pressing against his abdomen. His hand automatically moves to grab at the touch, and shaky fingers close around someone’s wrist. Noctis would move them, but there’s not much strength there to begin with, so he ends up just shaking their arm lightly. His name is called but he’s a bit too tired to bother responding. If he were a little more present, he’d definitely flinch at the distressed expression that adorns the faces of everyone present.

* * *

Pressing a hand to the prince’s neck, Ignis releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding, only to snap his head up as a harsh scream reaches his ears. Looking to Gladio, who had pulled Prompto to the ground with him, the two share a bewildered look, utterly confused about the situation. Prompto has taken to (trying to) push away from the larger man, said person tightening their grip on the panicking figure. His breathing is fast, too fast, and Ignis doubts he’s getting enough.

“Try to get him to regulate his breathing Gladio.” Nodding he turns to his friend, not quite sure if his words are even reaching him. As Gladio tries to work with the blonde, Ignis lifts the unconscious Noctis into a sitting position, and he’s relieved to see a clear exit wound. Grabbing the elixir from his side, it being the first thing he grabbed before rushing over, he cracks it over his friend as he observes Prompto’s condition from afar. The marksman had stopped yelling at some point, now laying limp against the larger man’s frame, as Gladio hadn’t been able to get through to him apparently.

“He alright Iggy?” Gladio inquires, slightly out of breath from the sprint over. Lifting up Noctis’ shirt, Ignis is satisfied with the rate of regeneration, the wound quickly stitching itself back together.

“He’ll make it. The wound has closed, but blood loss is not something that can be fixed by potions I’m afraid.” His point is amplified by the ashen complexion making Noctis look many years older. Motioning for Gladio to grab Noctis, he moves to Prompto’s side.

“Take Noctis back to the haven, I shall join you soon.” Ignis can tell the other would feel more at ease staying behind with him, but one look at his prince, and Gladio was wordlessly carrying him back. Shaking his head at the blood soaking the grass, he pushes up his glasses, looking down to the man next to him in shock and confusion. He wipes at the blonde’s face; his nose had bled profusely since they came. His gaze moves across his features, frowning at the impossibly dark circles under his eyes, wondering to himself. When had he slept last? Tracks of dried tears stain his cheeks, the skin there a bit inflamed and red. Ignis’ glance raises to peer around the clearing, his eyes stopping on the cracked chunks of rock laying a few feet away. A slight glow of blue appears as Ignis summons the handguns to his side. Pushing his hand against the clip, a click ringing out as the part unlatches, he peers into the cartridge, frowning when he sees the blanks issued for training. There is no way these bullets could do such damage, unless…

“Of course.” The spiteful words pass his lips as he unloads the second arm, the clip greeting him with the sight of military-grade ammunition. Perhaps Prompto had forgotten to switch out the ammo, then again, he was not meant to use two weapons in this session. Looking back to the unconscious figure next to him, a huff of frustration forces its way out of his lungs.

“What exactly transpired here?”

* * *

Back at the haven, Gladio positions Noct at the far right of the tent, the shield’s usual spot, since it offers a bit more leg room. He's replaced the soiled shirt with his white T-shirt, tossing the other to the side, as Gladio’s sure Ignis would like to make an attempt at salvaging it. Sitting heavily next to him, the larger man scans Noct’s form, as If the answers are hidden in the folds of his wrinkled attire. It was a scene that took everyone off guard, since Noct was never one to beg, and Prompto had never been seen with such an expression. Gladio tries to remember what exactly flashed across the blonde’s face, not quite able to come up with a term better than hurt, although he’s sure there’s more to it. It takes his whole being to push aside any anger towards his friend, but for fuck’s sake, he had to tackle the guy! It’s not like Gladio takes pleasure in knocking his friends down, but it was the quickest way to protect all of them. Then there was the scream, like Gladio’s touch was burning holes into the poor guy, and the sound put a boulder in his stomach. Prompto’s eyes had been heavily glazed over, to the point he briefly considered the possibility of it being some status ailment. Leaving an elixir behind, in case the other woke during his absence, Gladio heads out of the tent and towards the chairs settled around the fire. Before he can sit, however, he spots Ignis, the blonde slung carefully over his shoulder.

“Still out like a light, huh?” he tries to joke, but the line falls a bit flat. Ignis looks at him like he’d much rather be stuck in the old conference rooms. Laughing nervously, Gladio moves to lay out the spare blankets next to where the fire would be burning, were it nighttime. Once he’s sure of the placement, he moves to grab the dead weight off of the other’s shoulder. Ignis’ lips are pressed into a firm line, the edge of his eyelid twitching with the stress of the situation.

“What of Noctis?” He asks tensely, eyeing the tent a few feet away. Gladio sets a hand on the other’s shoulder, as he looks ready to storm over there and check Noctis all over again.

“He’s alright Iggy, relax. Still out cold, of course, but nothing out of the ordinary.” He receives a reluctant nod in response, taking it as permission to move Prompto from his shoulders. The kid is much lighter than you’d expect, although every aspect of his just screams ‘child’ so, then again, not much surprise there. His muscles develop a lot like Noct’s do, so it makes sense that they’re both a little scrawny looking.

“Have you noticed any strange behavior, perhaps before training?” His eyes never leave the figure that the larger man slowly lowers onto the makeshift bed. Once sure that Prompto was comfortable, or as much as he could be, Gladio slumps into a folding chair next to him.

“I dunno, aside from the fact that with his added training, he shouldn’t be making mistakes like that.” He trails off, tone laden with confusion. At the comment, Ignis’ gaze moves between the other two rapidly before he blanks. As far as he knows, Prompto hasn’t been training any more than usual.

“When has this training been taking place? I haven’t noticed such changes in routine.” At the inquiry, a small twinge of shame passes over Gladio’s features, as if he’s been caught in the cookie jar.

“He told me that he catches up on sleep during the day, and I’ve noticed him taking breaks in the tent while you’re in there taking stock of our inventory. I assumed he slept then, so I didn’t question his habit of training overnight.” Ignis reaches up to remove his glasses, wiping the frames on a cloth he pulls from gods know where, as the veins in his forehead look ready to burst from his face.

“Prompto has never slept during the day, aside from brief naps in the car, as far as I’ve observed. His time spent with me is usually spent taking apart his weapons for maintenance. When did he start this routine?” He sighs heavily as he sets the frames back onto his face, roughly pushing the bridge higher on his nose.

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell me, since it took me accidentally walking in on him to find out, but that was Monday I think.” Silence passes briefly as they look to the blonde.

“Monday?” Ignis reluctantly confirms. A small grunt is the only reply he receives, and it makes his face burn with shame.

“Today is Thursday.” The statement is unnecessary, as they know fully well what day it is, but it slips out in disbelief rather than for informative purposes. His mind automatically flies to the information that’s stored on sleep deprivation and quickly comes back with the term insomnia. Ignis knows, from personal experience unfortunately, about the dangers of skipping a good night’s rest, let alone three or four.

“If I recall correctly, long periods of consciousness can be dangerous, causing lapses of judgement and motor skills in the first day alone. If Prompto has been up since Monday, and I sincerely hope it has not gone back further, then we are looking at seconds to minutes of microsleep; brief periods of forced unconsciousness. There is also the risk of lowered reflexes, impossible fatigue, and after over three days, delusions and hallucinations.” The new information makes Ignis think back to the times Prompto took a bit too long to get out of the car, the days he looked dead on his feet. He hadn’t questioned it really, because they were all in the same boat. But were they? Pulling his glasses from his face again, this time placing them to the side in favor of rubbing at his temple, Ignis reaches to push aside the hair that had fallen to Prompto’s face, anxiety and shame burning a hole in his gut.

“Oh, Prompto.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came slow, since I'm not too good at writing intermission chapters (where nothing really happens aside from dialogue and realizations). Tysm for reading! Next update soon to come :D
> 
> XOXO


	4. Optimism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompto is my child. I will one day marry Ignis. Noctis would be the coolest friend. 99% sure Gladio's my dad. Just saying. Ignis tho <3 NO. This isn't about Ignis. This is Noctis and Prompto! Okay. Enjoy a sliiiightly longer chapter :3

It’s just his luck that he wakes to the sore state his body’s currently trying to rest in, the sensation of a not-quite-present injury making it impossible to slip back into sleep. A hand raising to push his hair out of the way, he shifts a groan rumbles in his chest as Noctis attempts to blink the grogginess from his features. The dim evening light passing through the tent’s flap, the emptiness of said area grabs his attention. _Where are the others?_ If he strains, he can just barely hear the soft hum of a pair of voices outside. Gladio, since he’s just a naturally loud person, can easily be heard over the other person, although Noctis still can’t quite understand what he’s going on about. Since he doesn’t seem to be competing with anyone for the title of ‘loudest chocobro’, it’s safe to assume the other person is Ignis. Noctis can’t imagine Prompto not wanting to add to whatever conversation he’s present for, so it comes as a surprise when the blonde’s quips and arguments don’t reach his ears. Frowning, the prince stares at the tent’s fabric celling. Now that he thinks about it, there usually isn’t a time that Prompto isn’t here napping as well. If Ignis is persuaded to let Noctis sleep, the marksman rarely one to not take advantage of the opportunity, so, where is he? He isn’t left to wonder for long before a haunted pair of eyes flash before his own, the potency of the emotions flowing through them startling Noctis into quickly sitting up, his equilibrium thrown as his hands press against the seemingly moving ground. His own eyes press shut in a sorry attempt to right the vertigo, and after a minute, he decides he’d be better off laying back down. The spinning wears off as his back presses against solid ground once more, his stomach definitely not appreciating the shock of it. A phantom pain strikes him in his abdomen, and he presses a hand to it, already aware he won’t find anything wrong, as he recognizes the after effects of the curatives they use after particularly nasty battles, or in this case, friendly fire.

The events now clear in his memory, Noctis can’t really focus on anything but the expression that had been so painfully evident. It was meant as a regular training session, the idea having come to Ignis during a battle with the MT solders that oh-so often drop from Imperial ships to interrupt their mission. Noctis can clearly remember the familiar buzz of magic encasing his body as he’d vanish, only to reappear a few meters away a moment later. He can remember this feeling repeating itself, purposefully working himself to the limit with the intention of stopping just shy of stasis. Prompto didn’t seem to want to allow that though, or maybe he just couldn’t. The shots had kept coming, and when the blonde had pulled a second gun, Noctis had briefly joked to himself, wondering what’d happen if that one were to have real bullets. That amusing thought had turned sour when shattered rock proved him right. At that point, Noctis recalls the battle between fighting off both stasis and his friend, although he had evidently failed on both accounts. Prompto had almost seemed possessed from the neck down, his head turning to argue with the air around him, but his aim never wavering. And then the pain, yep, he remembers that quite well, that and chilling screams afterwards, although he isn’t sure if that was injury-induced hallucinations or reality. Shaking the memory from the front of his mind, he makes another attempt to sit up, having more success this time around, as he stretches his limbs as much as the tent allows. Looking to his side, he notices an elixir someone left behind. Scoffing, he dismisses the curative, sure he isn’t that out of it. Slowly dragging himself to his knees, he moves to head out, but is met with another wave of vertigo. Leaning onto his hands, he breathes a huff of annoyance, begrudgingly grabbing at the bottle by his blankets after a moment, knowing Ignis would chide him for trying to navigate blood loss without it. Popping the top off with a click, he dumps it on himself, not even waiting for it to evaporate away before pushing himself out of the tent. The light that meets him, even the dull rays of the evening, worsens the ache behind his eyes, and he groans at the dry laughs that come from the chairs ahead of him.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” Gladio snickers, “finally decide to grace us with your presence, hm?” His tease falls flat as Noctis pries his eyes open, the prince looking between his advisor, to his shield, and to the form that lay beside them. Ignoring Ignis’ questions about his condition, Noctis all but sprints to kneel by his friend’s side. Quickly looking him over for injury, he looks frantically to Ignis.

“What’s wrong, is he okay?” In the moment Ignis hesitates, Gladio laughs awkwardly.

“He’s alright, although he may bruise a bit from the way I had to take him down…” He trails off as he receives an elbow to the gut, the advisor mumbling about giving more thought to what, and how, he says. Noctis’ eyes widen and he shoots his shield a purely venomous look.

“You TACKLED Prompto?” He accuses, exasperation leaking from every feature. Ignis raises a hand to rub at his temple, and Gladio flounders for some sort of argument, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“You saw him, he wasn’t stopping-” he’s cut off by the way the prince looks at him, and he doesn’t know if it’s the anger or the magic that makes his eyes flash a warm color for a moment. If Ignis notices the charged atmosphere, he doesn’t comment, instead more focused on a spot on his lenses.

“That doesn’t mean you have to go full on apeshit on him! He clearly didn’t mean it.” His tone calms a bit as he looks back to his friend’s ashen features. Ignis gives up on cleaning his frames, popping them back atop his nose before turning to them.

“You’d be correct to assume he wasn’t completely present at the time, and in hindsight, it would seem to be our fault.” His expression falls, and the others aren’t sure if they’ve ever seen such a downcast version of their advisor. At Noctis’ confused expression, Ignis begins to explain what he had told Gladio, glancing away when he get’s to Prompto’s habit of avoiding sleep, lamenting about how he of all people should’ve been able to notice.

“Hey specs, it’s okay, none of us notices, you can’t beat yourself up about that. From the sound of it, he’s just exhausted. Extremely so, but not on the brink of death or something, right?” Noctis reassures him, not quite happy with how his advisor slips back into his indifferent expression.

“Right. Well I suppose it’s about how we proceed from here, although I do wonder what he saw that had him in such a state.” At the empty question, Gladio stiffens and shifts in his seat, the others a bit to focused on Prompto to notice. After a minute of silence, he stands, clearing his throat.

“I’ma go look for tonight’s firewood, since it’s getting dark and all.” He’s relieved when they don’t ask questions, or insist on coming along, both content to wait for Prompto to awaken. As Gladio heads to the edge of the haven, he hears Ignis setting up his portable cooking station, leaving Noctis by the blonde’s side. Making his way down the side of the camp platform, he looks around, pressing his boot into the dirt, choosing to follow the driest path. This isn’t quite for his personal comfort, but to raise the chances of finding good, or in this case, dry, wood. As Gladio walks, he can’t help but remember all of the times he’s berated Prompto this past week. In an effort to distract himself, he sets forth with a new determination. He’ll find the firewood, and if he happens to come across enemies and bash their heads in (a bit harder than necessary), that would be purely coincidental.

* * *

“What was that, Noct?” He’s startled by Ignis’ question, pulling at his shirt collar as he looks towards the trees.

“Ah, nothing, I didn’t realize I was speaking…” He trails off as his advisor eyes him suspiciously.

“If that’s the case, forget I said anything. Dinner should be ready soon enough.” The mention makes his stomach turn a bit, the feeling of metal piercing it still fresh in his mind.

“Great, I’m sure Prom will be starving.” Noctis laughs a bit at the usual reaction to food the other gives, the blonde usually acting as if Ignis starves the poor guy. Thinking back to that night, when Prompto had joined him on the roof of some motel, he recalls what they’d talked about. His chest tightens, as he realizes the blonde may have not believed him when Noctis had casually tried to let him know how much he meant to the group, and to him.

“Hey specs, do you ever feel like you don’t deserve to be by my side?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he could’ve phrased that a bit better. Ignis pauses, sending a strange look his way, something between disbelief, concern, and annoyance. Noctis quickly tries to piece a better question together.

“No, uh, I mean, do you ever doubt your ability to be of use?” Ah, another fail. Ignis removes the pot from the heat, turning to give his full attention to him, posture tense.

“Not particularly, why, do you doubt me?” Ignis’ eyes narrow with curiosity and an emotion he’s only seen in Prompto, and he now recognizes it as fear from insecurity. Smacking a hand against his forehead, he shakes his head.

“No, no I don’t have any doubt you’re needed here, and that goes for all of you” Noctis sighs heavily, marveling at his ability to mess things up. “I only ask because, well, I think that’s what’s got Prompto so wound up.” At the reasoning, Ignis’ expression immediately softens, relief, followed by confusion rising to his features.

“And what would make you think that?” Noctis hesitates to answer, and the silence is interrupted by heavy footsteps from the trees. They both stiffen, both ready to summon weapons, straining to see the figure approaching.

“Calm your tits princess, it’s just me.” Noctis scoffs, Ignis relaxing at the familiar voice. Gladio makes his way up the side of the haven, dropping the wood he gathered in a heap beside the tent. After a second, Ignis tenses again, grabbing a potion from thin air with a blue spark.

“What happened out there, Gladio?” He asks, pacing over to inspect the other man. Noctis is left confused, until he himself takes a closer look at him. His clothes, although not in need of mending, are definitely now in need of cleaning, if the dirt and blood are anything to go by. The only injury he seems to have sustained lay in his knuckles, as if he abandoned his swords in favor of his fists. Grabbing the potion from him, Gladio quickly administers it before deflecting the questions, as per usual.

“It’s nothing, you should see the other guy.” Noctis has a feeling the ‘other guy’ is probably dead somewhere. Ignis decides against pressing, and he turns to the food again.

“Well, if you’re sure. Dinner will be done in a moment, if you’d start the fire.” With a nod, Gladio bends to move the materials to the center of the clearing, waiting until Noctis has scooted himself and Prompto a bit further away from the pit. As sparks are lit from the flint Gladio’s using, the area slowly starts to warm up, the evening chill having snuck up on them. Ignis starts dishing out stew into bowls, and Noctis’ gaze flies to Prompto’s face, as the prince was hopeful that he’d wake soon enough to eat. A bowl was pressed into his hands, but he made no move to acknowledge the fact, sill attentive. Even as Gladio dug in, Noctis waited, so that maybe he could still share the meal with his friend. Eating without him felt sort of wrong. After a few minutes, Ignis gave him a pointed look, stuck between wanting to comfort him and wanting to shove the food down his throat.

“You should eat, Noct. Even if he wakes a bit later, there will still be some for him to eat, if Gladio here doesn’t push it.” The corners of his mouth twitch slightly as the accused starts trying to defend himself. Smiling at the display, Noctis starts to eat, not taking his eyes off of Prompto, in case he wakes.

But he doesn’t wake, and he frowns as Gladio moves him to the tent for the night. He’s silent as the others clean up outside, and the last to lay down for bed. Noctis is surrounded by the tent wall on one side, and the blonde on the other. Ignis lay facing Prompto, no doubt to keep watch over his condition, and then Gladio at the end. The prince can faintly hear the soft breaths coming from beside him, and he looks over. When did things get so out of hand? What did he see? Noctis doesn’t know what’s different from usual, but two feet suddenly feels like too far, and he moves closer, pressing his hand into Prompto’s, which are surprisingly warm.

If Ignis witnesses the change, he doesn’t mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, sweet moments :3  
> Everything has an end though...  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> XOXO


End file.
